At the dawn of a Saturday, life in the central tower of Thar Abbys is dedicated to the proper registration of requests made to its adventurers in their guild records. Countries, towns, or individuals—all these requests will be reviewed by the enormous bureaucratic body that works day and night, managing papers and discussions with those who solicit the academy's services, recording the adventurers' results on their petitions. From abandonment to completion with honors, the evaluations demonstrate the fortitude and iron will of those sheltered by Thar Abbys.
In that tower, in a corner of the highest peak, far from the bustle below, amidst books and empty coffee cups, sat a man with short, whitish hair, his face aged yet framed by years of combat and cunning. His scars, adorning his face and body, told stories of countless victories against mortal enemies better than all the certificates, medals, and accolades in his name hanging on the wall. A long scepter, a wooden "Klauvra" with knots at its tip and crowned by three pearls, rested inside a display case. Weariness and age obscured his power, but his experiences and inventiveness adorned him like an aura, making it clear why he was the sole SSS-grade platinum adventurer in the entire academy and the world.
Seated on a wooden chair with its back facing forward, he remained thoughtful and calm, resting his crossed arms as he admired three scrolls of paper, searching his mind for the answer that eluded him. The tranquil office filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, accompanied by biscuits produced by the manufacturing and logistics guilds. The echo of three solitary clocks sang in chorus, accompanying the pensive man, each displaying different times, synchronized with the schedules of the academies of Nher Vael Arhym, Evookia, and Vael-Dragon.
— Bang! — A door slammed outside the office, abruptly disturbing the already tense atmosphere.
— Instructor Samael! By Enrya, Triariz, and the divine mother! You are a professor, act like one! — the voice of a young woman was heard, followed by a pair of heavy footsteps approaching down the hallway.
— Uras… you crazy old man, where are you! — Samael moved furiously down the hallway; his heavy stride denoted an evident air of anger. Searching the other rooms, he found the man resting in the chair in a large study adorned with robust and finely decorated wooden tables. He headed directly towards him, having finally found the object of his search.
— Instructor Samael, I most respectfully ask you to show respect for this place; we are in the office of the director of Thar-Abbys! — said a beautiful young woman with fair skin and light brown hair named Cassandra, trying unsuccessfully to calm the furious Samael. She followed him to the study door.
— Samael, you torture poor Cassandra every time you come… do you have no pity for her? — said the man, glancing sideways without taking his gaze off the scrolls or his hand from his chin.
— Pity… URAS GRANADA, YOU CHEATING OLD MAN… Twice, twice! Missions are evaluated and assigned by the examiners; no one can interfere with this task, and I have two missions assigned to my kids that instead of a signature have a scribble that says… “THE KING COMMANDS IT!” And they're accepted! Do you know what’s worse? You don’t even bother to pretend it wasn’t you! — Samael’s anger was evident and escalated with each complaint; Uras’s intervention in the two tasks assigned to Samael’s group without his consent was the clear source of his fury.
— How did they do? — he asked calmly, still staring fixedly at the three scrolls.
— Do you really never have pity? Not even on your pupils, you’ve always been the same inconsiderate person as when you were the examiner for Shalona, Coleopterus, and me. Ah… what the hell. Yes, they’re about to arrive — Samael said, sighing as he sat on a studded leather stool.
— Your kids are strong, I chose them for you, just like Shalona’s. They had to take a bold step, I personally reviewed their profiles. Shalona’s already master some greater spirits, they’ve improved so much; in fact, Shalona doesn’t even attend to them anymore, she just goes from bar to bar gorging herself on food with Coleopterus, she’s going to get fat and I’ll laugh! — said the old man with a mocking laugh that turned slightly into a cough.
— You’re heartless! Seriously, being director hasn’t changed you at all. The Multicontinental they’re traveling on will arrive in a few hours. And those scrolls?... Aren’t those the reports from the groups we sent out a few months ago? — Samael took the scrolls as he turned to look at Uras.
— That’s right, young Samael, the results came in… nothing’s happening, and that’s what bothers me about those reports. — said Uras as he lit a cigarette, but Cassandra gave him a reproachful look; he quickly extinguished it as fast as he could.
— The activity index of the Reclamationist Orders is null in the area… that’s unusual, but there’s also no suspicious activity from any company or mercenary group. There’s only transit of private armed vessels, usual for a port like Naglesh, I see no suspicious activity — Samael read the results carefully while Uras furrowed his brows slightly as if reading the report caused him annoyance.
— Paragraph four, imports and products — Uras said in a low voice.
— Hmm… 30 tons of Jasubiana salt!, 300 logs of white applewood… 40 barrels of Bizmar ink. Are they planning to exorcise the Forest of Eternity? Hahahaha! — Samael chuckled a bit, but upon looking at Uras's serious face, a shadow fell over his own; an insecurity bloomed within Samael, after all, Uras was never wrong in these situations.
— I can’t request another investigation; the authorities of Vael-Dragon and the Library City have blocked my access. "Too many suspicions for nothing," they say! Ha! Nonsense. Tomorrow two teams of ten people will depart for Naglesh, we’ll monitor the ports closely. As always, I trust your judgment, Samael; select reliable people with good social tact. You know how they are in Naglesh — Uras turned to the other end of the long table and pointed with his gaze at a pile of documents; there were the profiles of 50 AA-grade adventurers.
— C… sure, Director Uras — stammering, Samael took the pile of files and turned to look at Uras.
— Do you think something will happen? — asked Samael.
— I don’t know, I have no idea, that’s why I’m uneasy; something is coming, something big — Uras replied and glanced sideways at Samael.
— I myself will go to Naglesh, for now you and your kids can rest for a while, I leave it to your discretion, thank you for your help. — said Uras as he descended the stairs.
— Of course, I’m always attentive — For Samael, it was the first time he had seen Uras so uneasy; a feeling of uncertainty would accompany him all day.
Uras put on a dress vest and over it a brown plaid jacket, accompanied by a red handkerchief in his pocket; it had an M embroidered in gold thread in the upper corner, disappearing along with Samael down the wine-colored marble hallway.
— Maybe I shouldn't have listened to this — thought Cassandra, drenched in sweat at the room’s entrance.
The Multicontinental departed, leaving the exhausted returning adventurers and picking up many others starting their missions. At the Thar-Abbys stop, the sun shone warm and gentle over the city's outer fields; the usual snow of the area scattered the sunlight, illuminating everything with its gentle glow. Adventurers, excited by their missions, came and went, some more enthusiastic than others, but all driven by a strange animosity that pushed them forward, except for three individuals, weary-eyed and lacking sleep; as if light itself avoided them, they cast a gray, undulating shadow around them.
— I… I haven’t slept in four days — said Íthil, devoid of all emotion.
— I have continuous hallucinations of dolls — Jacob was leaning on the cart Íthil was pushing.
— SHAAAAAAAAA! — growled Mina, who halfway back reverted to her savage origins.
— Lads, champions among heroes! — Samael walked towards them with cheerful steps and raised hands.
— Oh no… no… no… no… — groaned Jacob.
— Come on, come on, lads, I bet you bring me excellent news! — Samael cheered happily for the three kids.
— I demand payment beyond what is stipulated — Íthil barely murmured through gritted teeth and anger.
— A walk in the swamp, I bet it was fun — Samael replied with bright eyes and a look of expectation.
— SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! — Mina growled at the instructor.
— All right… all right… I’ll see you tomorrow, I have your reports, kids, rest — Samael wisely retreated, letting the three adventurers rest. Looking at each other and with a nod, they decided to try to rest for the day.
That afternoon, thanks to the tremendous talent of the most experienced students and teachers, the three adventurers were able to rest free from the memories of that mine. That night, they did not see the deep resentment that followed them, nor the murmur that haunted their memories for four days; finally, rest.
In that tower, in a corner of the highest peak, far from the bustle below, amidst books and empty coffee cups, sat a man with short, whitish hair, his face aged yet framed by years of combat and cunning. His scars, adorning his face and body, told stories of countless victories against mortal enemies better than all the certificates, medals, and accolades in his name hanging on the wall. A long scepter, a wooden "Klauvra" with knots at its tip and crowned by three pearls, rested inside a display case. Weariness and age obscured his power, but his experiences and inventiveness adorned him like an aura, making it clear why he was the sole SSS-grade platinum adventurer in the entire academy and the world.
Seated on a wooden chair with its back facing forward, he remained thoughtful and calm, resting his crossed arms as he admired three scrolls of paper, searching his mind for the answer that eluded him. The tranquil office filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, accompanied by biscuits produced by the manufacturing and logistics guilds. The echo of three solitary clocks sang in chorus, accompanying the pensive man, each displaying different times, synchronized with the schedules of the academies of Nher Vael Arhym, Evookia, and Vael-Dragon.
— Bang! — A door slammed outside the office, abruptly disturbing the already tense atmosphere.
— Instructor Samael! By Enrya, Triariz, and the divine mother! You are a professor, act like one! — the voice of a young woman was heard, followed by a pair of heavy footsteps approaching down the hallway.
— Uras… you crazy old man, where are you! — Samael moved furiously down the hallway; his heavy stride denoted an evident air of anger. Searching the other rooms, he found the man resting in the chair in a large study adorned with robust and finely decorated wooden tables. He headed directly towards him, having finally found the object of his search.
— Instructor Samael, I most respectfully ask you to show respect for this place; we are in the office of the director of Thar-Abbys! — said a beautiful young woman with fair skin and light brown hair named Cassandra, trying unsuccessfully to calm the furious Samael. She followed him to the study door.
— Samael, you torture poor Cassandra every time you come… do you have no pity for her? — said the man, glancing sideways without taking his gaze off the scrolls or his hand from his chin.
— Pity… URAS GRANADA, YOU CHEATING OLD MAN… Twice, twice! Missions are evaluated and assigned by the examiners; no one can interfere with this task, and I have two missions assigned to my kids that instead of a signature have a scribble that says… “THE KING COMMANDS IT!” And they're accepted! Do you know what’s worse? You don’t even bother to pretend it wasn’t you! — Samael’s anger was evident and escalated with each complaint; Uras’s intervention in the two tasks assigned to Samael’s group without his consent was the clear source of his fury.
— How did they do? — he asked calmly, still staring fixedly at the three scrolls.
— Do you really never have pity? Not even on your pupils, you’ve always been the same inconsiderate person as when you were the examiner for Shalona, Coleopterus, and me. Ah… what the hell. Yes, they’re about to arrive — Samael said, sighing as he sat on a studded leather stool.
— Your kids are strong, I chose them for you, just like Shalona’s. They had to take a bold step, I personally reviewed their profiles. Shalona’s already master some greater spirits, they’ve improved so much; in fact, Shalona doesn’t even attend to them anymore, she just goes from bar to bar gorging herself on food with Coleopterus, she’s going to get fat and I’ll laugh! — said the old man with a mocking laugh that turned slightly into a cough.
— You’re heartless! Seriously, being director hasn’t changed you at all. The Multicontinental they’re traveling on will arrive in a few hours. And those scrolls?... Aren’t those the reports from the groups we sent out a few months ago? — Samael took the scrolls as he turned to look at Uras.
— That’s right, young Samael, the results came in… nothing’s happening, and that’s what bothers me about those reports. — said Uras as he lit a cigarette, but Cassandra gave him a reproachful look; he quickly extinguished it as fast as he could.
— The activity index of the Reclamationist Orders is null in the area… that’s unusual, but there’s also no suspicious activity from any company or mercenary group. There’s only transit of private armed vessels, usual for a port like Naglesh, I see no suspicious activity — Samael read the results carefully while Uras furrowed his brows slightly as if reading the report caused him annoyance.
— Paragraph four, imports and products — Uras said in a low voice.
— Hmm… 30 tons of Jasubiana salt!, 300 logs of white applewood… 40 barrels of Bizmar ink. Are they planning to exorcise the Forest of Eternity? Hahahaha! — Samael chuckled a bit, but upon looking at Uras's serious face, a shadow fell over his own; an insecurity bloomed within Samael, after all, Uras was never wrong in these situations.
— I can’t request another investigation; the authorities of Vael-Dragon and the Library City have blocked my access. "Too many suspicions for nothing," they say! Ha! Nonsense. Tomorrow two teams of ten people will depart for Naglesh, we’ll monitor the ports closely. As always, I trust your judgment, Samael; select reliable people with good social tact. You know how they are in Naglesh — Uras turned to the other end of the long table and pointed with his gaze at a pile of documents; there were the profiles of 50 AA-grade adventurers.
— C… sure, Director Uras — stammering, Samael took the pile of files and turned to look at Uras.
— Do you think something will happen? — asked Samael.
— I don’t know, I have no idea, that’s why I’m uneasy; something is coming, something big — Uras replied and glanced sideways at Samael.
— I myself will go to Naglesh, for now you and your kids can rest for a while, I leave it to your discretion, thank you for your help. — said Uras as he descended the stairs.
— Of course, I’m always attentive — For Samael, it was the first time he had seen Uras so uneasy; a feeling of uncertainty would accompany him all day.
Uras put on a dress vest and over it a brown plaid jacket, accompanied by a red handkerchief in his pocket; it had an M embroidered in gold thread in the upper corner, disappearing along with Samael down the wine-colored marble hallway.
— Maybe I shouldn't have listened to this — thought Cassandra, drenched in sweat at the room’s entrance.
The Multicontinental departed, leaving the exhausted returning adventurers and picking up many others starting their missions. At the Thar-Abbys stop, the sun shone warm and gentle over the city's outer fields; the usual snow of the area scattered the sunlight, illuminating everything with its gentle glow. Adventurers, excited by their missions, came and went, some more enthusiastic than others, but all driven by a strange animosity that pushed them forward, except for three individuals, weary-eyed and lacking sleep; as if light itself avoided them, they cast a gray, undulating shadow around them.
— I… I haven’t slept in four days — said Íthil, devoid of all emotion.
— I have continuous hallucinations of dolls — Jacob was leaning on the cart Íthil was pushing.
— SHAAAAAAAAA! — growled Mina, who halfway back reverted to her savage origins.
— Lads, champions among heroes! — Samael walked towards them with cheerful steps and raised hands.
— Oh no… no… no… no… — groaned Jacob.
— Come on, come on, lads, I bet you bring me excellent news! — Samael cheered happily for the three kids.
— I demand payment beyond what is stipulated — Íthil barely murmured through gritted teeth and anger.
— A walk in the swamp, I bet it was fun — Samael replied with bright eyes and a look of expectation.
— SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! — Mina growled at the instructor.
— All right… all right… I’ll see you tomorrow, I have your reports, kids, rest — Samael wisely retreated, letting the three adventurers rest. Looking at each other and with a nod, they decided to try to rest for the day.
That afternoon, thanks to the tremendous talent of the most experienced students and teachers, the three adventurers were able to rest free from the memories of that mine. That night, they did not see the deep resentment that followed them, nor the murmur that haunted their memories for four days; finally, rest.
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